


Emergency Induction Port

by Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon Fix-It, Public Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 22:11:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5265563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw/pseuds/Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a night on the town, Tali and Shepard have a little sleazy fun in a back alley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emergency Induction Port

**Author's Note:**

> Drunk!Tali = Best Tali. 
> 
> Also, the fix-it nature of things is somewhat incidental to things; mostly I just wanted everyone to be alive and okay with the timeline working out the way I wanted it.

“You know, Commander,” Tali begins as they stroll down the steps of Flux.

“Yes, Admiral?” he replies coyly. For want of any pet names that survived the gauntlet of translations between English, Quarian, and Common, they had resorted to their titles as endearments.

“I was thinking,” she begins, tugging him gently towards an alleyway, “It's our five year anniversary.” Shepard panics and tries to do math in his head while Tali just leads him along. She hadn't said anything when she suggested they go out for dinner and drinks, hadn't mentioned any special occasion. “Since you rescued me, that is.”

“Really only three years for me,” he teases, and he can see the green glint of synthetics through her mask as she turns away. Nobody had quite gotten used to that yet. Hell, he wasn't even quite sure how he had survived the Crucible.

“I won't hold that against you,” she giggles, the fingers of her other hand closing around his wrist as she tugs him into an alcove. “I just thought I should properly repay you,” she elaborates as she fumbles with his fly, “since I never did when I was younger. And now we're _right here._ ” Her last words are a clear invitation.

“Tali...” he murmurs. Even with the Reapers and the Geth, her immune system isn't up to prolonged stretches outside of her suit, even in relatively clean environments. Which this dingy alley is not. “This isn't smart,” he adds as she drops clumsily to her knees, one hand fumbling to grab at his hip for support. He glances around to see if anyone else is coming, but the only other living thing in the passage is a Keeper, which is almost worse, and he turns his attention back to the twinkling of his lover's eyes through the smoked glass of her mask.

“I've made some modifications to the Emergency Induction Port,” she says, voice pitched high, but slow, deliberate. “See?” she asks, her voice now in its natural timbre, unfiltered by anything but the pleasant buzz induced by Turian rum.

“Fuck, Tali,” he mutters. The Keeper putters along implacably as she pops his member through the port and between her lips. Her eyes light up the way they do whenever she's solved a thorny engineering problem. Which, of course, invited the question of just when she'd recorded that particular parameter... His knees buckle and he leans with one arm against the grimy wall, suddenly glad that he hadn't worn his dress blues. He tangles his other hand in her headscarf, hoping he doesn't dislodge anything too vital as his fist clenches tighter, pulling the fabric as she dips her head closer to his groin. He swears he can feel her smile as he starts to lose control, can taste her amusement somehow, even as her hand snakes up under his shirt and takes hold of his side, giving her leverage as she bobs in and out, tongue tight along the underside of his shaft, and he comes with a grunt, feeling the double suction of the seal and her lips. “Come on,” he says, helping her to her feet, sparing a glance to make sure there aren't any micro-rips in the knees of her suit.

“What's the hurry, Commander?” Her voice lilts drunkenly over the last word as the port irises shut.

“I want to repay the favor,” he says, zipping up his fly. (Lord have mercy, he prays he hasn't just given the poor, patient Keeper an eyeful.) “And do it in somewhere we won't both have debilitating infections if we spend too long without a decent air filter. After all,” he concludes as she smooths his shirt back into place and tucks her arm around his back, “it is the five year anniversary of when you came into my life.” She laughs as they saunter back to the Normandy, and nuzzles playfully against his shoulder.


End file.
